Wednesday, November 3

There is a red brick wall standing in my way, not too high but not short enough for me to jump over to the other side. I’ve been standing here for a while now, to be honest I have been standing here for years, soon a decade.
This red brick wall was a hurdle that I thought I’d overcome in matter of hours, but hours became days and days became years. I painted over the red with sunny yellow colour, planted a cherry tree and put a bed close to the wall. I made it my home, even though I know that I don’t belong here and something better lies on the other side of the wall.
Somewhere along the way I’ve stopped trying and have decided to satisfy with less. I made myself believe that this is better than what lies behind the wall, though at nights I wake up to nightmares taunting me of my failure.
I am hoping in vain that someday I’ll wake up to see that the wall has vanished to thin air. But no matter how big the storm gets, the wall remains standing in front of me.
At times I get frustrated; I scream, I kick, I weep. I make myself the victim, treated unfairly by God. No matter how much I lie, I know that I am to blame for my own misery and no one else.